The Boy With the Bread
by NotReallyAnOriginalUsername
Summary: "I find myself focusing on those gray eyes, all the power they hold. She's the only thing keeping me grounded right now, and she doesn't even know it."
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: So this has probably been done over and over, but ever since I read Hunger Games I always wondered what Peeta was thinking. So...this is what I think might be running through his mind. I hope I do him justice, He's such a wonderful character. Sorry if he comes across as too feminie. Hope you enjoy. REVIEW ARE MUCH APPRECIATED (: **

**PS: I do not have Beta, so I apologize for my grammical/spelling errors. **

**~NotAnOriginalUsername. **

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><p>"PEEEE-TAAAAA MELLLLL-ARRKKK!" I sit up straight as some sort of screeching noise fills my ears.<p>

I rub my eyes, my vision blurred from sleep. Blinking I make out my red faced mother in the morning light shining through my opened window. She's tapping her foot impatiently, raising her eyebrow. I scoot away from her at the sight of the wooden spoon in her hand.

"Do you know what day it is?" Her voice is filled with irritation.

My heart drops as I realize what she means.

"The reaping," I say, running my fingers through my hair.

"Just because you don't have any baking to do, doesn't mean you get to sleep until some UNGODLY hour. It's mid-day. You have two hours," She snaps before exiting my bedroom in a hurried flourish.

I get out of bed, walking over to the window. Outside the streets are empty; no coal miners out for work, no children on their way to school. Today's the day of the reaping; the day they choose the oh-so-lucky tributes.

One boy and one girl from ages twelve to eighteen are chosen from each of the twelve Districts to participate in the annual Hunger Games. There's a drawing to chose – of course, we must keep it fair – and each year your name is entered, another entry is added on. So when you're twelve, it's entered once; thirteen, twice and so on. Being sixteen, my name is entered five times. In reality that's nothing compared to some of the boys from the Seam.

There's a tesserea that you can sign up for if you're hungry, or poor. It supplies you with a year's supply of grain and oil, but there's a catch. With each tesserea you sign up for, your name is entered another time. Some people have their name entered more than forty times.

My chances of getting chosen are much smaller, but I can't help the dreadful feeling that rises in my gut each time I think about the reaping.

I turn from the window and walk over to my dresser, picking out a pair of my nicer clothes; a blue button down and a pair of white slacks that have been slightly darkened with coal dust. Tucking the clothes under my arm, I walk down the hall towards the single bathroom.

I turn on the shower - we're one of the few families in District 12 to be blessed with one – and undress. My broad shoulders barely fit in the small space, and I almost fall from shock when the cold water hits my skin.

After washing I get dressed, not bothering to fix the wrinkles in my shirt, or comb my blonde waves away from my face. . Downstairs I can hear my mother yelling at my oldest brother, Jace. He no longer has to worry about the reaping; last year was the last time he had to enter his name.

I pause for a second, looking at myself in the mirror. I furrow my brow at the face staring back at me.

"They won't pick you. The odds are in YOUR favor…for once," I mumble to myself; almost laughing as I somewhat quote the infamous Effie Trinket.

Sighing, I go back to my room and sit down on my bed and pull on my shoes. For a few minutes I stare out the window, watching as people begin to make their way to square. All smiles are absent today, the grimness in the air swallowing all happiness that the Capitol tries to associate with the event.

My father knocks on my door, opening it slightly.

"Hey son," He says, attempting to smile.

I nod, getting up and walking towards him. He wraps one arm awkwardly around my shoulder. I never noticed I was taller than him.

"Don't worry too much," He mumbles as we start to walk downstairs. "The odds of you getting picked are…extremely low."

I don't say anything.

Downstairs my mother and brothers are waiting for us. My mother is still flushed with anger; come to think of it, she always is. Or maybe she's just naturally red. I could never really tell. My brother Caleb is biting his lip, his foot tapping in nervousness. My mother smoothes my hair away from my face roughly and tries to remove the wrinkles from my shirt.

She steps back and examines us all, then she opens the door and we make our way to the square.

Outside camera crews line the tops of buildings, watching us like we're prey. People sign in and file into the square. The reaping is another way from the Capitol to keep track of everything, since everyone has to go. There's a roped off section for the ages twelve through eighteen, and I separate myself from Caleb and cram myself in with the rest of the sixteens.

I focus my attention to the small stage set up on the Justice Building and the two glass balls, the podium and the three chairs it holds. In one of the chairs sits the mayor, the top of his tall head balding. Next to him is Effie Trinket, fresh from the Capitol. She's our escort and very alien like with her pale pink hair and bright green suit. The sit next to them is empty, reserved for the only person – that's still alive – that's won the Hunger Games from District 12; Haymitch. Of course, he is absent as always – probably filling himself with toxins.

I wrinkle my nose and look up at the mayor as clock strikes two.

He tells the same story he does every year. How Panem rose, its thirteen districts and the beautiful Capitol that rules it. Then how the Hunger Games came to be; a result of an uprising from the districts. Twelve were defeated, and the thirteenth seized to exist. As a punishment, the Hunger Games were created.

The Hunger Games has simple rules. Two tributes – a boy and a girl – are called from each district. They then are set into an outdoor arena, which could be anything the Gamemakers wish it to be, and are set to kill each other. The last one standing is the winner. The worst thing about the Games is that they are to be treated as a celebration; the Capitol requires this.

After he finishes his speech, he begins to read the victors from District 12. In the past seventy-four years we've only had two.

As if on cue Haymitch staggers onto the stage as his name is being read; obviously drunk. He hugs Effie and then settles into his sit. The mayor rolls his eyes in embarrassment, and then hands the microphone over to Effie.

"Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be EVER in your favor," Her voice is so bubbly I almost throw up. She tells us what an honor it is for her to be here, but it's obvious she's disgusted by us.

I cross my fingers behind my back silently and looks down at my feet.

"Ladies first!" Effie's voice rings throughout the crowd.

I hear rustling as she reaches into the glass ball and pulls out a slip.

"Primrose Everdeen."

My heart stops. Did I hear that right?


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hello! So here's chapter two. Again, I hope it's not too terrible. And I apologize for my errors. I would read it over, but I barely have enough time to write it. Anyway, ENJOY. and like alway, reviews are great (: **

***Anything from the story itself it Suzanna Collin's* **

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><p>Effie's words echo in my mind for a second. Not Prim. Through the crowd I can see her small fragile figure surface. How could this happen? She's only twelve and I doubt Katniss would let her take a tesserea. She's one slip in a thousand.<p>

"Katniss," I mumble under my breath, frantically searching the crowd for her face.

"Prim! Prim!" Katniss' voice fills my ears.

I study her face; even when it's twisted with horror it's beautiful. Her hair is carefully twisted away from her face, her blue dress clinging to her figure in all the right places.

Katniss grabs Prim and pushes the small girl behind her.

"I volunteer!" Katniss' voice is desperate," I volunteer as tribute!"

_No. NO. _She can't. Anyone but her. I stare at her face, wanting so badly to pull her down from that stage, to tell her that it's okay. I realize how selfish it is, but she can't go, she can't sacrifice herself; she's the only good thing about District 12.

_Why her? Why'd she have to volunteer herself? _I force myself to acknowledge the fact that I don't even know her. It shouldn't matter, I shouldn't care; but I do. This girl, Katniss Everdeen - with her beautiful grey eyes, determination, and the deep care she has for her family – has been the only girl to capture my attention and keep it. The only real interaction I've heard with her was years ago, right after her father died.

She was hungry, starving in fact. I could barely make out her frail figure in the rain, my evil mother beating her away with a broom. I watched as she made her way behind the pig pen and fell to her knees. I did the only thing I could think of at the time, and it was worth it. I burnt a small batch of bread so that my mother would make me get rid of it. I gave it to Katniss. Of course, my mother beat me but I didn't really care. Anything to give those sad grey eyes hope.

I pulled out of my thoughts as Effie Trinket begins speaking again.

"Lovely!" Says Effie. "But I believe there's a small matter of introducing the reaping winner and then asking for volunteers, and if one does come forth then we….um…" Her voice trails off.

"What does it matter?" The mayor is looking at Katniss with a pained expression. I realize that Katniss was friends with his daughter, Madge. "What does it matter? Let her come forward."

Prim is screaming now, her skinny arms clutching Katniss' skirt," No, Katniss! No! You CAN'T go!"

Katniss inhales deeply, setting her jaw," Prim let go. Let go!"

A boy comes from the crowd, Gale I think his name him, and lifts Prim up off of Katniss. He mumbles something in Katniss' ear and a pang of jealously runs through me. I push it away and watch as She makes her way up the steps, her movements stiff and forced.

Effie smiles broadly," Well bravo! That's the spirit of the games! What's your name?"

Katniss pauses, studying the crowd," Katniss Everdeen."

"I bet my buttons that was your sister," I shake my head at the stupidity in the statement," Don't want her to steal all the glory do we? Come on, everybody! Let's give a big round of applause to our newest tribute!"

There's a silence that spreads over the crowd, no one moves, not a single sound escapes the people of District 12. I'm not sure where it starts, but the crowd begins pressing their three middle fingers of their left hand to their lips and holding it out to Katniss. It's an old and rarely used gesture, showing the thanks and admiration that could never be expressed through words.

I raise my hand to her, afraid to admit that this could be the last time I see her.

Suddenly, Haymitch staggers across the stage and wraps an arm around her shoulders," Look at her. Look at this one!" His words are slurred. "I like her!" Katniss tries to pull away. "Lots of… SPUNK!"

He turns to the nearest camera, "More than you! MORE THAN YOU!"

Just as I begin to question who is addressing, he falls off of the stage and lands on the ground with a thump. I shake my head in disgust, how could this be the man that won the Hunger Games? The man that represents District 12?

There's a pause as Haymitch is carried off on a stretcher and Effie Trinket is back at the podium. She smiles as us and tries to get all our focus back on the task at hand. It's time to pick the boy tribute. Effie's hand reaches into the glass ball that contains five slips with my name. I hold my breath, watching as she unfolds the slip carefully.

"Peeta Mellark!"

Dazed, I look around. Somebody puts their hand on my back, pushing me forward, and it takes a second for it to hit me. That's MY name. I'm Peeta Mellark.

I make my way up the stage after I receive a few shoves from the people around me. Struggling to keep my emotions at bay, I look up at Katniss. Her grey eyes meet mine for a split second before she turns back towards the crowd.

Effie asks for volunteers, but I already know no one will step forward, not even Caleb. Family devotion only goes so deep. I listen as the mayor reads the Treaty of Treason, glancing at Katniss out of the corner of my eye. Her face is unreadable, no way for me to even guess what she's thinking about.

The mayor finishes his speech and signals for us to shake hands. My hand covers hers; surprised by the strength they hold. I hold her gaze, squeezing her hand slightly. She turns back to face the crowd as the anthem of Panem plays.

Staring at her I realize what I have to do now. I have to keep her alive, she has to win.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Hey! I'm not sure how many of you are actually reading this story, but here's chapter 3! From here on out it should be getting a lot better. Thank goodness. Anyway, enjoy and ignore my errors as usual. Thank you! (: **

***Anything from the story itself belongs to Suzanna Collins* **

**REVIEWS ARE APPRECIATED (: **

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><p>After the anthem a group of Peacekeepers ushers us into the Justice Building. We're both leaded into separate rooms and left alone. After the Peacekeeper closes the door I make my way over to the couch and place my head in my hands.<p>

Just a few hours ago I was convinced I was safe. I thought that maybe the odds had been favoring me, like they had the past few years. Shaking my head I realize how stupid I was to think that I could be safe from the Capitol, no one ever is. I push those thoughts out of my head; I need to prepare for the next hour, the time I have left with the people I love. I have to hold myself together, tears aren't an option anymore. Be strong.

My mother and father walk in, I can tell my father's been fighting back the tears. His wife isn't crying, why should he? He's the man after all.

"Hey son," My father attempts a smile, just like this morning.

I try to speak but it comes out as a strangled sob. I hug my father, shaking my head as I start to cry. So much for not crying.

We stand there, my mother by the door watching my father and I embrace for what could be – and what probably is – the last time.

"I love you so much," My father pulls away, gripping my shoulders. "I am beyond proud of you. I couldn't ask for a better son, Peeta."

The finality of his words hit me. I wipe the tears off my face and look down.

"I love you too dad," I can't say anything else. It'd make all of this that much harder.

My mother comes and sits down next me and begins to play with her skirt.

"Maybe we'll have a winner this year," She says. This is the closest thing to love I've ever received from her. She looks up at me. "She's a fighter…that one."

I stop breathing. My mother means Katniss, not me. She thinks I'm going to die, and she's accepting it. I stare at her in disgust, baffled by her inability to care. Shaking my head, I set my jaw and point to the door. I know there's great truth in her words, but some things are better left unsaid.

"Peeta," Her red face has become pale, the toughness in her voice gone.

I shake my head," Just go."

She walks out and my father and I are left in silence. He puts a hand on my shoulder, patting it softly; the encouragement in the gesture has little effect on me.

"You're mother means well…" He says.

"I know," I say, but it's a lie. She's never meant well, never will. How badly I've wanted to say that if I survived her I can survive the Hunger Games. How badly I've wanted to take her beatings and throw them right back in her face. But I can't - even with her harsh words and sharp bruising – I still love her.

A Peacekeeper opens the door and signals for my father to leave. I hug him one last time as he pats my back one last time.

I sit back on the couch, staring at the ground as I tug at the roots of my hair. I think about what my mother said, about Katniss being a survivor. I think about all the events that led up to this moment; that will lead up to my death. Hatred begins to build inside me, spilling angry tears over my cheeks.

My brother Jace walks in, but we don't say anything to each other. He sits next to me in silence. I want to say something to him, but anything I can think of sounds pointless. When the Peacekeeper comes in to retrieve him he pats my back and mutters the words 'I love you' before exiting.

Caleb doesn't come, maybe ashamed of his cowardly ways. I don't blame him though, I wouldn't have volunteered if he had been chosen. A few of my friends come in and wish me good luck, but it means nothing to me. I just nod, giving hugs when needed.

The tears keep coming, and don't stop until they take us to the cars. The camera crews swarm around us, but I ignore them. The tears make me look weak, but I don't care. I look over at Katniss, her face like stone.

We're dropped off at the train station, allowing the cameras to gobble up more images of us, before we load the train. I'd never been on a train, especially the Capitol models that travel at insanely high speeds.

Honestly, the train is amazing on the inside. We each get our own rooms that have a dressing room and a bathroom with hot running water. There's drawers filled with fine clothes, but honestly I couldn't care less. I have everything at my disposal, anything I could hope for. As long as I'm ready for supper in an hour.

After washing my face and hands, I go over to the drawers and grab a pair of pants and a red shirt. I pull them onto my body, surprised how perfectly they fit me; like it was known I was going to be picked beforehand.

I sit on my bed, running my hands over the plush fabric. Outside my window trees rush past me, the varying greens dizzying my eyes. Today's events spin in my head. It seems so unreal, like a nightmare I'm going to wake up from any minute. I close my eyes and steady myself, trying to stop the loud and dizzying thoughts in my brain. I find myself focusing on those grey eyes, all the power they hold. She's the only thing keeping me grounded right now, and she doesn't even know it. Katniss is making everything almost worth it; at least I'll get to spend the last weeks of my life with her.

Maybe I'll finally get to know her, get to know all her dreams, all her nightmares. Maybe I can become someone Katniss Everdeen loves, but I don't want her to love me. She can't win if she loves me.

Suddenly there's a knock on my door and in enters Haymitch. The smell of alcohol and sweat floods the room.

"Congrats kid," His words are slurred and he stumbles slightly as the train rocks.

I don't say anything; just stare at him in disgust. How could this be my mentor, the man who holds my fate? He stands there for a few minutes before he turns abruptly and laughs, saying something about a nap. I sigh and put my head in my hands. I might as well be digging my own grave.

After a few minutes of sitting in my room, I've had enough. I get up and venture my way out into the rocking corridor, figuring it's been almost an hour anyway. An attendant from the Capitol is immediately by my side, asking if I need anything.

"I was told to be ready for dinner," I say, my voice monotone.

The attendant nods and motions for me to follow him down the hallway into a large room. There's a table covered in expensive china. I sigh, wondering why everything must be so extravagant. Crossing my arms, I make my way around the table and sit so that I am facing the door to the dining hall. I study the details carved into the silverware, thinking how lovely the intricate patterns would look on a cake.

_Wow. I spend too much time baking. _I think as I shake my head.

I hear Effie's voice coming through the corridor and look up.

"Where's Haymitch?" Effie asks as she steps into the room, Katniss following her.

"Last time I saw him, he said he was going to take a nap," I say.

"Well it's been an exhausting day," She says taking a seat at the head of the table.

I take in Katniss' appearance. Her hair is still twisted at the nape of her neck. On her green shirt she wears a gold pin, a small golden bird encircled by a ring. I realize that the bird is a mocking-jay.

During the rebellion, the Capitol made genetically engineered animals to be used as weapons. In the Districts they were referred to as muttations, or mutts. One weapon was the jabberjay, which could record and repeat any human conversation. They were used to gather secrets from the rebels.

After a while, the people figured it out and the birds become useless to the Capitol; who set them free to die. Instead of dying they mated with mocking-birds and created a new species – the mocking-jays. Now they're just an insult to the Capitol.

Katniss sits down across from me and our supper begins; coming in courses. Even the food is beyond imaginable. Everything is rich in flavor, each course more filling than the last. I shove food in my mouth, savoring the taste, letting the texture settle on my tongue. If only food like this existed everywhere.

"At least you two have decent manners, the pair last year ate everything with their hands like a couple of savages. It completely upset my digestion," Effie says halfway through our wonderful meal.

I almost choke on my food and look up at Katniss. Her eyes darken slightly and she glares at Effie. Last year, the tributes were two kids from the Seam. I know that Katniss took that somewhat personally. She sets down her knife and fork and begins eating her meal with her fingers and I smirk to myself.

I lean back in my chair after I finish desert. My stomach churns slightly and I begin to feel sick, not used to such rich food. Looking up at Katniss' pale face, I know she's feeling the same way I do.

We go into another compartment to watch as recap of the reapings. The Capitol makes it appear as though people could watch each reaping live by staggering it throughout the day, but no one really can. Only the people in the Capitol do, since they have no reapings themselves.

I watch as names are called and volunteers step forward. There's a few who stand out as major campetion. A large boy who volunteers from District 2. A red head from District 5. Then there's the weak, the ones that make the games that much more horrible. A crippled boy from District 10. I look over at Katniss when a small, fragile girl from District 11 steps forward. Its plain what Katniss is thinking, the girl is exactly like Prim. Their only difference is the girl's dark skin and big, dark eyes.

Finally, they show District 12. I look away, unable to watch. The commentators make snide comments on how odd District 12 is, I know they're talking about the gesture made towards Katniss. I listen to the loud bang of Haymitch's fall. I listen as they call my name, I know now that I didn't make it up; this is really happening.

The anthem begins to play again and I turn back towards the screen. We all sit in silence for a few minutes before Effie breaks the silence," Your mentor has a lot to learn about presentation. A lot about televised behavior."

I laugh," He was drunk. He's drunk every year.

"Every day," Katniss adds. I turn to look at her, watching as a small smirk forms on her lips. _Her lips.._

Effie makes a disgusted noise," Yes. How odd you two find it amusing. You know your mentor is your lifeline to the world in these Games. The one who advises you, lines up your sponsors, dictates the presentations of any gifts. Haymitch can well be the difference between your life and death!"

Perfectly on cue, again, Haymitch staggers in.

"I miss supper?" He slurs before vomiting all over the carpet. I watch hopelessly as he falls into his mess.

"So laugh away!" Effie turns with a _humph_ and skips her way out of the room.


	4. Chapter 4 Part 1

**Hey guys! I apologize for the wait, there's a lot of stuff going on in my life right now. While school is winding down and becoming easier, stuff starts to happen with cheerleading. BAD STUFF. but anyway, I hope you enjoy this (: Oh and this is only Part 1 of Chapter 4, but I figured you deserved something to read right? **

**Anyway, ENJOY. (:**

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><p>I watch as the man who holds my life in his hands attempts to raise himself out of his vomit. The alcohol reeks, and is having a negative effect on Katniss. I watch as she tries to hold back a gag. She looks at me, her eyes tell me that she's completely repelled by all of this; but he's all we've got.<p>

We each grab one of Haymitch's arms and help him to his feet.

"I tripped?" He asks. "Smells...bad."

He smears vomit across his face with the back of his hand. I sigh, "Let's get you back to your room. Clean you up a bit."

We each sling one of his arms over our shoulders and help him down the corridor to his chamber. Katniss stops in front of his bed, but quickly decides that in this state he'd probably ruin the bedspread. We haul him into the bathroom and lay him in the showering. I turn the water on him; he groans something before his eyes droop lazily off into sleep.

"It's okay, I'll take it from here," I nod.

She doesn't say anything for a few seconds and I look at her. She's studying me, and then she looks at Haymitch and slightly shakes her head. How I wish I knew what she was thinking.

"All right," She says after a few minutes. " I can send one of the Capitol people to help you."

"No," I shake my head. I can't stand the sight of the Capitol people. "I don't want them."

She begins to walk out. I hear her pause in the door way for a second before I hear the door to Haymitch's chamber closes. I crouch next to Haymitch's motionless figure and turn the spray more directly on his face, and the front of him. He begins to sputter and gasp under the spray, but I don't remove it until all of the vomit is washed down the drain.

I turn of the shower and watch as some sobriety surfaces in his eyes. He just gives me an annoyed look and I stand back up.

"Take a shower, I'm not leaving until you do," I say. He studies me for a second, but doesn't say anything.

I go back out into his bedroom, and study the empty whisky bottles strewn across the floor. Is this really the effect of surviving the games? I know it messes with your brain, but how does someone become a raging drunk?

I begin to collect the glasses, throwing them away. After a few minutes, Haymitch exists the bathroom. He dresses and silently gets in bed, not making eye contact with me or saying anything. After I decide he's not going to get up to drink again, I get up and walk out of his room. Closing his door behind me I walk down the hallway to my chamber.

Once I'm in my room I realize the train hasn't been moving, I've been so caught up in Haymitch and the events from today I didn't notice the pause. I open my window for a quick second, inhaling the fresh air. I let it wash the smell of raw alcohol away from nose. Leaning out the window a little ways I look towards the front of the train. A few windows down a window opens and something falls out of it, or is thrown out.

Feeling the train buzz to life beneath me I close my window, but as the train slowly starts we pass the object that was thrown. It's cookies, neatly cradled in a patch of dandelions. I shake my head at the waste. Even as a child from one of the richer families I know not to waste food. Especially cookies. But, I suppose they can afford to do that in the Capitol, right?

I sit by the window for a while, watching the sun slowly set. In the distance I see the lights of another district, knowing they're getting ready for bed. I close my eyes, picturing my home. What is my family doing? Are they continuing on, like nothing happened? Like I'm not missing? Surely my mother did. Did they watch the recap of the events? I wonder if my father sits up by the oven, watching the flames deteriorate to nothing like he always does when something bad happens. My brothers have probably locked themselves in their shared room, sitting the night out in silence. In the morning they'll wake up and brush it off – pretend like nothing happed.

My chest becomes heavy upon these thoughts. No one will mourn my disappearance, except maybe a few of the girls at school. No one important to me though. No one will bother to care. It's too heartbreaking to.

I shake my head and get up, going to the bathroom. Stepping into the shower, I let the warm run over me, taking the thoughts of today with it. After I step out, I feel like ten pounds have been washed away from my body.

I pull on a pair of night pants and lay down. The sheets are amazingly soft, the comforter wrapping me in warmth. I close my eyes and immediately find myself drifting away. My dreams taking me far from this horrible world.

When I wake up, there's gray light coming through my window. I swing my legs over the side of my bed and stare at the ground.

_Yesterday I was chosen to be the male tribute for District 12. I'm on my way to the Capitol, where I will die. _I remind myself. I feel a lump rising in my throat, tears threatening to spill over my eyes. Shaking my head, I get up and steady myself. The swaying of the train sets me off balance as I try to make my way to the dresser. In the dim light, I can barely make out the differences of the clothing. Blindly, I chose a shirt and decide to pull on the pants from last night.

After brushing my hair messily away from my face, I decide to make my way out to the dining car. I brush past Effie Trinket who just smiles at me, telling me she was just coming to wake me. I nod, and put my best fake smile on.

In the dining car, Haymitch has already started his drinking and is laughing loudly at himself. His face is swollen, a bright pink color flushing his cheeks. I shake my head, laughing to myself at his stupidity. Crossing over to the table, I sit down beside him. He looks over at me and furrows his eyebrows.

"Peeta?" He says, taking a swig of a red juice he keeps thinning with a clear liquid.

I nod, staring at the food they've set out in front of me.

"Like pita bread?" He laughs. "You're a Mellark too aren't you? What a riot!"

I ignore his comment. I have always tried to ignore the fact my name was that of a bread, only varying in spelling. My parents had gotten lazy once I came around I guess.

"So, Peeta, tell me what you think of your….predicament," Haymitch says. He takes another swig of his drink.

"Not much to say," I mumble, caught up in the food they've placed in front of me. There's an arrangement fruits in the center of the table, some I've never seen before. There's a basket of roles next to it, the steam rising from the fluffy white bread. There's orange juice, and coffee. I've never liked coffee, it's taste bitter. What catches my eye is a glass of rich brown stuff I couldn't recognize.

Picking it up, I take a sip, letting it run down my throat. It tastes like happiness. I take another drink, not seeming to get enough.

I turn to Haymitch," What _is_ this?"

"Hot chocolate," He says nonchalantly, like the liquid he was referring to wasn't the most wonderful think I'd ever tasted.

I set it aside, saving it for last. I pick up a role and begin breaking off chunks when Haymitch turns to me again.

"So, you like the girl?" His words are becoming more slurred.

I stutter slightly, caught off guard. Was it so obvious that even a drunk could tell? I think of way to answer, but am saved when Effie comes in and sits at the head of the table.

"Well that answers that!" He laughs as my face begins to heat with embarrassment.


	5. Chapter 4 Part 2

**So here's part two of chapter 4! I don't know if any of you noticed this but I'm going along with the book...like as I write, I have it sitting next to me and I'm flipping through the pages as I go along. Is that a bad thing? I just want to accurate. But whatever. Haha, anyway...**

**ENJOYY! (: **

**Oh and have any of you heard of District Tritbue? His scores are AHHHMAZING (: look em up!**

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><p>Katniss walks into the car. Her eyes are tired, studying each of us before deciding to make her way to the table.<p>

"Sit down! Sit down!" Haymitch calls, waving her over.

She sits down in her chair and her eyes widen as they begin to serve her, her breakfast. I watch her gray eyes take in all the food. The orange juice, the coffee, the rolls, the fruit; until she stops on one item, the hot chocolate. She picks up the glass and stares at it. I smile at her, watching her eyebrows furrow in confusion above her beautiful gray eyes.

"They call it hot chocolate," I say. "It's good."

As if to prove my point, I take a sip from my own cup. Katniss studies me for a second, and then turns to her own cup. I watch as a shudder runs through her body as she drinks it. Smiling, I turn back to my plate.

I savor each bite of food, chewing it twenty times before swallowing. My father used to tell me to do that, especially when I was growing up.

When I was going through my growth spurts, I would always complain about being hungry; always wanting more food. My mother's face would turn red with rage and she would stutter with anger as she told me that I was an ungrateful child, that I was a rotten spoiled brat and send me to my room.

Later, my father would come up to my room and sneak me a piece of bread.

"Chew it each bite twenty times, you won't be hungry," He would say.

I would watch my father's back as left. Then, I would carefully chew each bite of bread, not wasting a single bit of it, before laying down for bed. It was those nights that I realized how great of a man my father was, how he deserved so much better. I never understood how he put up with my mother, and quite frankly his sons. Including me. It's not like I was something to be proud of.

Breaking off bits of the rolls in front of me, I dunk them into my hot chocolate. The table has grown quiet as everyone eats, the only sound is Haymitch's gurgling as he throws back his red drink. I look up at Katniss, who is watching him in disgust. Hatred is written all over her face.

I know that Haymitch is the reason we don't have winners from District 12; the lack of food and training isn't the only thing to blame here. District 12 could've had some winners, there have been a few tributes with a lot of potential. But, a tribute can't survive in the arena without sponsors. Sponsors are the richer and higher people of the Capitol that back up the tributes, supply them in their time of need, but they don't want to deal with a drunk like Haymitch.

I try to hate him, but I can't. Part of me can understand why he is this way. He wants to forget, throw the games into the past. The only way he can do that is by washing it out with the alcohol.

"So you're supposed to give us advice," Katniss says to Haymitch.

Haymitch looks up at her, his eyes slightly glazed over. "Here's some advice. Stay alive!" He says, bursting out in laughter.

My muscles tense. As much as I can understand his drinking habits, why he has them and such, I'm not going to let him throw my life – and more importantly Katniss' life – down the drain. Katniss and I exchange a look, and she seems taken aback by the look in my eyes.

" That's VERY funny," I say as I raise my arm up, knocking the glass from Haymitch's hand onto the floor. I watch it shatter, the liquid seeping into to carpet like blood. "Only not to us."

Haymitch stares at me for a second; then, before I have time to react, punches me in jaw. I fall back from my chair. It takes me a second to regain my sense. I grab the edge of the table, lifting myself up. There's a knife stuck in the table between Haymitch and his drink.

"Well what's this? Did I actually get a pair of fighters this year?" Haymitch asks as he leans back in his chair, studying us.

I scoop some ice into my hand, raising it to the red mark forming on my face.

"No," Haymitch says. "Let the bruise show. The audience will think you've mixed it up with another tribute before you even made it into the arena."

I stare at him in shock," That's against the rules."

"Only if they catch you," Haymitch says slyly. "The bruise will say you fought, you weren't caught, even better." He turns to Katniss. "Can you hit anything with that knife besides the table?"

I turn to look at her. She threw that? I always knew she was good with weapons, especially a bow and arrow, but I didn't expect her to be able to throw knives. She reaches over and yanks the knife from the table. Balancing herself, she gets a good grip on the blade and flings it across the room. I watch as it lodges between the seam of two panels. _Damn. _

"Stand over there. Both of you," Haymitch says, nodding to the middle of the room. We stand there as he circles us. Occasionally he pokes, prodding at our muscles, checking our faces. "Well, you're not entirely hopeless. Seem fit. And once the stylist get a hold of you, you'll be attractive enough."

I nod, shrugging slightly. Of course, the Hunger Games isn't a beauty contest, but the better looking tributes always get more sponsors.

"All right, I'll make a deal with you. You don't interfere with my drinking, and I'll stay sober enough to help you. But, you have to do exactly what I say," Haymitch says. It's not that great of a deal, we could get stuck in a whole lot worse of situation now that a drunk as agreed to try and guide us. But, at least now we have a guide.

"Fine," I say.

"So help us. When we get to the arena, what's the best strategy at the Cornucopia for someone-" Katniss says. But Haymitch cuts her off.

"One thing at a time. In a few minutes, we'll be pulling into the station. You'll be put in the hands of your stylists. You're not going to like what they do. But no matter what it is, don't resist."

"But –" Katniss begins.

"No buts. Don't resist." Haymitch says. He goes back to table, grabs a bottle of clear liquid and exits the car. Darkness closes in as the door shuts behind him, the lights inside the car fighting against the dark outside. It takes me a few minutes to make the connection that we've just entered the tunnel that runs through the mountains to the Capitol.

The mountains are like a natural barrier, protecting the Capitol from the eastern Districts. They're part of the reason the war was lost; part of the reason why I'm a tribute today.

I turn to Katniss, the dim lighting leaving my gaze unnoticed. The hair falling around her face reminds me of the little girl who's life I saved, the little girl who could silence the birds with her voice. I watch her close her eyes tightly, inhaling and exhaling slowly. I know it's the tunnel, her being trapped underneath the mountain. Just like her father. I sigh, moving towards her slighting.

The train slows, throwing us off balance slightly. The cabin fills with light again, and I realize we must be in the Capitol. I run to the window, pressing my hands against the cool glass. The Capitol rises up in front of me, something I've only seen on television. The beautiful colored buildings shine in the sunlight, the cars rolling down the street. I study the odd people, their different colored hair to match the buildings, their clothes and painted faces only adding to the rainbow around me. Anything I had seen on the television had not done the sight before me justice. All the colors are beyond anything I had ever dreamed of. The blues bright, the reds deep, the oranges gorgeous.

Outside the oddly colored people point at us as they recognize the train rolling into the city. I notice that Katniss steps away from the window, sickened by their joy in sacrificing us. I hold my ground though, my smile fake as ever as I wave at the obnoxious crowd. If I can make District 12 look good, maybe we'll have a chance. Maybe I can actually help Katniss win this thing.

Once the train pulls into the station I stop. I turn around and see Katniss staring at me, almost in disgust.

"What?" I shrug, rubbing my neck. " One of them may be rich."

Katniss stops and studies me. I raise my eyebrows as her eyes run over me and she shakes her head slightly, like she's figured something out. Suddenly she pushes past me, leaving me alone in the dining car.


	6. Chapter 5

**Hello, Hello! Here's chapter 5 for all you lovely people (: My internet hasn't been working lately, so I've had some trouble actually getting this thing up. Not to mention I haven't been able to write since I slammed my finger in a car door. (It hurts. I dont advise you to do it) **

**Anway, thank you to everyone who has been favortiting and following my story! And a HUGE thank you to those who have been reviewing (: I hope you all enjoy! **

**(Personally this is my favorite chapter...so far) **

**(Oh and try to ignore all my errors)**

**Now...onto the storyy! (: **

* * *

><p>I had always thought I was a good looking guy. Blonde hair, blue eyes, toned body, not to mention I could bake. I considered myself to be fairly attractive, but three baths, six moisturizing and peeling treatments later I was convinced any thought on my attractive-ness was completely off set. I was "much too hairy" and my skin was "an odd dry texture, like I moisturized with flour every night", at least, that's what my prep team had said.<p>

I have been in here for about three hours and still haven't seen my stylist. My skin is raw and red from the baths, and the beard I had been attempting to grow is gone, and so is some of my eyebrows. They've waxed my chest hair off as well, and I feel completely vulnerable. But I haven't said anything, or complained.

Faegen, a short round man with bright red hair and green tattoos covering his entire body now hovers around my face; plucking, waxing, and making comments on my hair when appropriate. Behind me a tall thin woman named Licia - that had decided dying herself to resemble a rainbow was a brilliant idea - is rubbing concoctions through my hair. Marx, a man of few words – though his tattooed face has said enough – is tending to shaping my nails.

Feagen pulls away and smiles proudly to himself," Wonderful. We're almost done!"

Licia begins snipping at my hair and I watch as my blonde locks fall on front of my face.

"Not too much Licia. Beauty Base Zero!" Faegen snaps quickly before sauntering off to get some more lotion.

After about ten minutes Licia steps around to face me and runs a red hand through my hair. Marx gets up and examines his work before standing beside her silently. Faegen, who has seemed to become the "boss" of the trio, nods and they help me off the table.

"Lotion!" Faegen says and the grease me down.

They remove a thin robe I've been allowed to wear, and I have to fight to keep from covering myself up as they circle once more before stepping back.

"You look great! One of the most cooperative tributes we've had!" Licia smiles at me and they all laugh.

I force a smile across my lips," Thank you." I say to show how grateful I really am for all of this. Which, I'm really not. But, Haymitch told us to cooperate.

"By the time Portia is finished, you're going to have girls falling to your feet!" Licia says, winking at me.

I put on another smile, reaching for my robe awkwardly.

Suddenly, there's a female voice coming from the door and the sound of heels clicking against the tile as they approach me," Don't put on that robe Peeta."

Faegen and the others gaze turn to follow mine. A woman, who I assume must be Portia, with dark skin smiles at me. She seems somewhat normal; the only thing off about her is her unnaturally blonde hair and black lipstick. She smiles at me, her teeth a beautiful white.

"I'm Portia," She smiles, then she turns to my prep team. "Thank you Faegen, Marx, Licia. You did a beautiful job."

My prep team smiles at her, then at me. As they skip towards the door, I shake my head at how incredibly stupid their rainbow appearance makes them look. I turn back towards Portia and watch as she begins to circle me.

For being from the Capitol, Portia appears to be somewhat sane. She's dressed in a simple black dress suit, only a spring of color coming from the shirt she's wearing underneath. After watching her for a few seconds I realize I don't recognize her face from any of the previous year's stylist whom they show in interviews and such.

"Are you new?" I ask when she stops in front of me and hands me my robe.

"Yes, first year in the Games!" She smiles, and I'm almost positive I hear a hint of disgust in her voice.

"And you got stuck with District 12?"

"Actually, Cinna – Katniss' stylist - and I chose to have you," Portia says, signaling for me to follow her.

She leads me into an almost empty room, except for the two couches facing each other in the middle. The opposite wall is made entirely of glass, letting you look out on the beautiful colors of the Capitol. Oh how deceiving looks can be.

We sit down, facing each other. She presses a button and a small table with a plate for each of us rises up. There's chicken and chunks of oranges with a creamy sauce. There's beautiful rolls shaped like flowers, and I think of how expensive those would be back home. Everything in the Capitol is so elaborate, so pricey.

"So, Peeta, your costume for the opening ceremonies," Portia says, not touching her plate.

I take a bite of chicken, and dip a roll into the creamy sauce. I think of the opening ceremonies outfits from previous years. Each District is dressed to resemble the principal industry of that district. For District 12, that is coal. Our costumes usually consist of skimpy imitations of coal miners outfits, always unattractive and repetitive. But, one year our tributes were completely naked, covered in coal dust. I shudder at the thought, hoping Cinna and Portia had some goodness in them.

"District 12's main industry is coal," Portia says, leaning back and crossing one leg over the other. "Cinna and I thought long about this one. How could we make the coal industry look appealing, without being repetitive?"

_Oh no…_

"We want to make District 12 unforgettable, of course. So instead of focus on coal, we decided to focus on what comes from the coal itself," Portia smiles at me and leans forward.

"Fire," I lift my head up and whisper under my breath.

"Precisely," She points at me.

About an hour later I'm seated in a chair, tilted back at a forty five degree angle. Portia hovers over me, occasionally shining a bright light on my face and then tracing my cheekbones and other corners of my face with a brush, lightly applying makeup here and there. Suddenly, she backs away from me and nods, pressing a lever on the chair that shoots me up into a straight position.

I stare at the boy in front of me. My face is highlighted in all the right places, catching the light perfectly when I turn my face; my jaw stronger, the angles on my face harder and manlier. My blue eyes are more piercing than before, and I know how attractive I am. I smile. _I'm hotter than Gale._

Portia stands behind me now, running her fingers through my blonde waves, shorter now because how much length Licia decided to take off. Portia grabs a small rolling table, covered in hair products and different pins and brushes. She carefully begins brushing my hair away from my face, spraying it with a sticky substance occasionally; not one hair sticks out of place.

She scurries off somewhere, and comes back a few minutes later holding a large headpiece covered with orange, red and yellow pieces of fabrics. I smirk, so this was our "fire". She begins weaving it into my hair, making sure to not ruin anything. She jabs a couple of pins into my head, making me flinch slightly. After setting each strip of fabric how she thinks it should lay she helps me out of the chair and over to a rack where the rest of my costume waits.

I pull myself into a black unitard and a pair of black leather boots that lace up to my knees. I study myself in the mirror, trying not to notice how awkward I look in such a figure hugging suit. Portia comes up behind me, standing on her toes as she pins the final piece of my outfit to my shoulders, it's a cape identical to my headpiece.

Portia stand back and smiles, admiring me.

"You are going to look fabulous once we light you one fire! No one will ever forget you," Portia smiles, and I smile too.

Then it hits me. Light me on fire. Light me on _FIRE. _I turn towards the mad woman next to me. So they've decided to start killing off tributes before they even get into the arena? And they're doing it before we even get to opening ceremonies.

Portia seems to catch the look of horror in my eyes," Oh! No, no, NO! It's not a real flame. It's a completely safe. Cinna and I came up with it." She seems beside herself with the thought and my stomach becomes uneasy.

There's a knock on the door and Faegen comes in.

"We've got to go!" His accent adds to the churning in my stomach as I follow him and Portia down the hall.

We meet up with Katniss, she accompanied by her stylist and her prep team. I'm relieved to see her dressed in a costume identical to mine. Everyone begins to pour about how fabulous we'll be, but the weary look on Cinna's face makes my stomach churn even more.

I step into the elevator and before I can even blink we're down to the bottom level of the Remake Center. Cinna and Portia push us into the chariots and begin arranging us. Everything around me begins blurring into one. The air begins leaving my lungs, and I close my eyes. _Find those grey eyes. _

There's a whisper in my ear," What do you think? About the fire?"

I grit my teeth together and take a deep breath, balancing myself. I turn to look at Katniss. She's looking up at me, the worry sharp in her eyes. I tighten my fists slightly, releasing a shaky breath. _God she's gorgeous… _

"I'll rip off your cape if you'll ripe of mine," I say, managing to collect my thoughts for a brief second.

Her lips turn up slightly, almost smiling. "Deal."

She pauses for a few seconds and looks around," I know we promised Haymitch we'd do exactly what they said, but I don't think he considered this angle."

_Now she chooses to have a conversation? _I sigh internally. I grip the edge of the carriage, steadying myself.

"Where is Haymitch anyway? Isn't he supposed to protect us from this sort of thing?" My voice is shaky, though she doesn't seem to notice as she looks around.

"With all that alcohol in him, it's probably not advisable to have him around an open flame," She says. This time she smiles, but it's not real. We both laugh, but that isn't real either. I can feel the nervous tension behind her laugh as it rings in my ears.

I feel the nausea enveloping me in waves as the opening music begins to play. Huge doors begin sliding open, revealing the streets lined with crazily colored people from the Capitol. The fluorescent colors do nothing to help the dizziness spinning in my head. I swallow hard, and it represses enough for me to focus as District 1 begins pulling out.

The crowd goes wild at the sight of them, their bodies painted silver, wearing beautiful glittering tunics. They make the luxury items for the Capitol. Immediately after them Distrct 2 begins pulling out, and it feels like seconds later we're next.

Cinna appears next to us with a lighted torch. " Here we go then," he says, and we have no time to protest before he lights us on fire. Katniss and I gasp in shock. I wait for the pain of third degree burns to engulf me, but nothing happens.

"It works," Cinna sighs with relief. That bastard didn't even know it worked. I shake my head, knowing there's no point in being angry. The man's obviously a genius anyway. "Remember, heads high. Smiles. They're going to love you!"

Cinna jumps off the chariot, but a last minute idea glints in his eyes. He begins shouting and making gestures and I can barely hear the words "hold hands" over the blasting music.

"What's he saying?" Katniss says, and she turns to me. My breath catches in my throat. If I thought she was gorgeous before, no words can describe her now. The fake flames light up her face and she's dazzling. She's beyond gorgeous; she's as radiant as the sun.

I stumble over my words for a second," I think he wants us to hold hands." I grab her right hand in my left, still staring at her face. She turns to look at Cinna and he nods giving a thumbs up. She turns back to face forward.

I can't take my eyes off this girl in front of me. She's perfection. I hear my name snapping in my ears and jerk my head away quickly, almost embarrassed. But, then I realize what's going on. Our appearance has drawn the attention from every chariot in front of us. I catch a glimpse of us in a large television screen and realize how breathtaking we look. The fire light swoops around our faces, brightening us at the twilight begins setting on the Capitol. The minimal amount of makeup makes us recognizable, but the highlighting lets the flames capture the angles of our faces and we look dazzling.

I smile broadly, lifting my chin and begin waving at the astonished and excited crowd. They are going insane, shouting our names and showering us with flowers and confetti. I gain confidence, the pounding music pushing away any clenching feeling in my stomach. We've just gotten a huge advantage, no one will forget us.

I turn to look at her out of the corner of my eye. No one will forget Katniss, the girl one fire. _My _girl on fire. We have a chance now, she can win. A flicker of hope rises inside me, spreading through my veins as I turn back towards the crowd waving, blowing kisses to girls who swoon.

The chanting of my name rushes through my blood, pumping my heart at an incredibly fast pace. I squeeze Katniss' hand, realizing that she has become my support. I breathe in the energy around me as we pull into the City Circle.

I feel Katniss loosen her grip on my hand, but I stop her," No, don't let go of me." Her beautiful gray eyes look into my own again, the flames bouncing around inside them. "Please. I might fall out of this thing.

She stares at me, a sudden sadness washing over her. "Okay," Her voice is a small whisper. I give her hand a squeeze.

The chariots begin filling the Circle. The horses pulling our chariot pull up next to President Snow's mansion. The president makes his way out onto the balcony. His thin, small figure doesn't match the loud booming voice that greets us and the music ends with a flourish. I look back the television screen and see the cameras are still on us and smile again. District 12 is finally getting more than its fair share of attention. Snow begins his speech, and I notice the darker it gets, the more the camera cuts to Us illuminating the circle with our flickering.

The national anthem begins to play and they make a cut across all of the tributes, but they stop on us and hold there for a few seconds before the screen goes blank and the horses take us into the Training Center.

Prep teams and stylists engulf us, praising us on our beauty and how fabulous we were. The tributes around us shoot us dirty look and I know we've stolen the show. Portia and Cinna help us out of the chariot and extinguish our fire.

I look down at Katniss to see that we're still glued together. She does the same, and then looks up at me before removing her stiff fingers from mine. I massage my hand, trying to get the blood circling again. That girl has quit the grip.

"Thanks for keeping hold of me. I was getting a little shaky there," I blush lightly, popping my stiff fingers.

"It didn't show," I see a slight smile begin to creep into her features again. "I'm sure no one noticed."

I shake my head lightly. "I'm sure they didn't notice anything but you. You should wear flames more often. They suit you," I say truthfully, a smile spreading across my face.

She smiles at me, and this time I know it's real. I finally got that smile out of her. But something changes in her eyes and I know what she's thinking. I can see the survival, the hunger for life.

Katniss is planning my death, but what she doesn't know, is that I am too. I flinch as she leans up on her toes and presses her warm lips firmly against the bruise on my cheek.


	7. Chapter 6

**A/N: Okay, so I was going to upload this last night but I ran into some problems. About halfway through the chapter I realized Peeta says that Cinna takes him onto the roof so of course I was like F#%&!(##*. So I went back and had to incorperate that, and then I had to go and finish the chapter itself. Also, I was killing myself to make sure it was uploaded by Sunday (today). Anyway, I'm sorry if any of the parts feel rushed or if there is so many spelling mistakes you can't even stand to read it. ): **

**Oh and if you guys could go check out my other story** (In the End - it's on my profile) **I would love you more than Peeta. Seriously. I plan on adding another chapter to it again later tonight (because I have most of that story written in advanced, and I'm just going through and fixing all the mistakes and adding to it). So yeah, if you do check it out, I'll give you extra lots of hugs. Just saying. I'll be your best friend (: **

**I don't know how soon I'll be updating this story, it should be throughout the week. (I have the week off, YAY!) But I also promised my friend I'd write something for him too. (You guys come first though (; ) **

**Anyway, Reviews with constructive critism are always appreciated! **

**Much love, **

**NotReallyAnOriginalUsername**

* * *

><p>The Training Center has one tower set of exclusively for the tributes, their stylists, prep teams, mentors, escorts, etc. This tower is where I will spend my last few days, it will be my home until the Games start. My stomach churns at the thought. Haymitch and Portia and push me through the sliding doors of the elevator. The buttons are numbered 1 – 12. Each district gets an entire floor. The only benefit of being District 12 is the fact that we get the top floor.<p>

The entire elevator is made of glass, letting you watch as the city below you shrinks down to the size of ants. I hold my breath as the elevator whisks us higher in the air, nothing like the elevator back at the Justice Building in District 12; which travels at the speed of a slug and smells of rotten milk.

I turn away from the glass and look over at Portia, her face beaming with pride at the events that had just taken place. I smile too, knowing we've caught people's attention. Everyone is talking about District 12. Haymitch is trying to hide the smugness behind a bottle of celebratory liquor.

The ride to our floor is silent, just that constant smile that seems to get bigger on Portia's face and the occasional hiss and Haymitch's alcohol burns his throat. There's a ding that signals we've made it to our floor and we step out. Haymitch leads me to my quarters and pats me on my back.

"Uh…good job today kid," He stands there for a second before nodding slightly and walking away.

I sigh and open the large oak doors and my breath catches in my throat. Everything is extravagant, even for the Capitol. It's bigger than the bakery, even the ceilings stretching past what I assume to be twelve feet. Everything is decorated in deep oranges and reds, giving off a welcoming feeling - oh the irony. There isn't a single thing left without detail, the carvings in the wood and the light brush of paint along the walls designed in something my father would have called "Victorian".

I swallow the lump in my throat at the thought of my father. He was always fascinated with the times before Panem; of course, it was mostly the art he was interested in. His favorite pieces and most of his inspirations came from the Victorian time period. He would spend hours on end icing delicate patterns into the frosting on a cake so he could set it in to window, only for it to be thrown away within the next week.

I run my fingers lightly along a wooden desk set in what could be considered a sitting area. Suddenly, a panel covered in black buttons slides out along with a small speaker. I smirk and shake my head. _What would the Capitol be without technology?_

The more I explore the more buttons and gadgets I find. The shower has at least a hundred options, and you don't even need a towel to dry yourself off, heaters turn on the second you step out of the shower and blow dry you. There's a small silver box that you put your hand on that dries your hair.

After showering, I make my way the endless closet. There's a small touch screen device that you use to coordinate your outfit to the correct style and size. I get dressed and then throw myself onto the large bed.

I run my fingers across the plush fabric of the comforter, feeling the small details stitched into the fabric. My head begins to flood with thoughts of home and my ending that was less than a week from now. I had never given much thought to my death, I had always assumed I would grow old. That I would have children, would spend the rest of my life happily with whoever my wife was to be. I had never really considered the Hunger Games to be a threat. I always assumed I was home free, that they would never really affect me. I had always lied to myself.

There's a knock on my door and I yell for whoever it is to come in.

"Hello," Cinna says as he walks in.

I quickly get up," Hello."

"Want to join me on a walk?" He smiles slightly. I watch as the dull light catches the gold eye liner traced along the upper lid of his eyes. He might be slightly insane, but he appears to be a pretty normal guy – being from the Capitol. He doesn't even have the accent.

I nod, following him out of my room and down the hall.

"So, tell me Peeta, what did you think of your debut today?" Cinna asks when we reach a flight of stairs.

"To be honest, I thought you were crazy," He laughs at this. "But, we looked amazing. Especially Katniss."

He pauses and looks at me, cocking and eyebrow.

"Where are we going?" I ask, quick to change the subject.

"The roof."

Cinna leads me into a dome shaped room with a door to the outside. As we step out into the cool, breezy night air, I catch my breath at the sight before me. I had never seen so many lights in my life. The Capitol outshines the stars, twinkling out past the horizon. District 12 never has constant electricity and most nights are illuminated by candles. The only time you can guarantee it is during the Games or when some important government message if being aired.

I follow Cinna to the railing at the edge of the roof and stare at the city below me. The small ant like people below still shine in the night light, there goofy outfits glowing in the neon signs lining the street. Cars zoom past and I can hear shouting and laughter. I wonder if this city never sleeps.

"Isn't is amazing?" Cinna asks, breaking me from my thoughts.

I nod, looking up at him. "Why do they let us up here? Aren't they afraid we'll jump?"

"You can't," Cinna says. He reaches his hand out into the empty space in front of us. There's a sharp zap and he jerks his hand back. "There's an electric field that throws you back on the roof."

I shake my head," Always worried about our safety, right?"

Cinna sighs but doesn't say anything. We stand there for a few minutes, staring out over the vast city, watching as the streets below us seem to fill up even more as time passes. I look around the roof, noticing a garden near the glass dome we entered through.

"Peeta, I don't mean to be blunt, but I find beating around the bush to be nauseating, don't you?" Cinna says suddenly. I raise an eyebrow as he continues. "You have feelings for Katniss."

It's a statement, not a question. I swallow hard, not knowing what to say.

"Those feelings could prevent you from winning," Cinna turns to me. "They could kill you."

I look out at the city again, before shaking my head. "Maybe I don't want to win."

Cinna is the one to stumble over his words now. He didn't expect that response from me, he didn't think I'd willing die for Katniss. He knew I had feelings for her, but he didn't know the extent. Silence falls over us again as my words settle in the air.

After a few minutes, Cinna clears his throat. "Well we should be heading down to dinner now. Effie will start worrying if we don't."

I follow Cinna to the dining room awkwardly. I probably should have just agreed with him, told him I knew what the consequences would be instead of straight out telling him I would die for her.

When we arrive in the dining room Portia is the only one there. I make my way over to the balcony, leaning against the railing. The view doesn't compare to that of the roof, but it still distracts me from the embarrassment heating my cheeks. Portia and Cinna join me, both of them talking about how great we were today and I easily drown out there small talk.

I wonder what the people in the streets below me are doing. How many over the top parties do they have planned? Who will be there? What will they be wearing for the night? I wished my life was that easy, that all I had to worry about were the petty things in life. I sigh and turn around just in time to see Effie skipping lightly through the door and behind her, Katniss.

I smile at Katniss as we sit down, a young man dressed in a white tunic serving us stemmed glasses of wine. I cautiously take a sip, feeling as though I might break the delicate glass. The liquid taste tart and is dry as it runs down my throat. I set it aside, deciding that I'll stick to water.

Haymitch saunters into the room, looking as if he's had his own stylist. He's cleanly shaven and groomed and almost completely sober. He doesn't refuse the offer of wine, but I'm relieved that he might have begun to take this seriously.

I drown out all conversation as servers begin placing platters of food in front of me. I inhale deeply as I start to fill my plate until it can't possibly hold anymore. There's roast beef sliced so thin that it melts on my tongue, some greens that Effie calls "salad", mushroom soup. Everything is delicious, as would be expected.

I don't stop eating until a girl brings out a beautifully adorned cake. She sets it on the table and I watch in awe as she lights it. Flames rise up and flicker around the cake, tracing along the iced patterns before finally going out.

"What makes it burn? Is it alcohol?" I turn and watch as Katniss as she begins speaking, her words slightly slurred as she turns to look at the girl. "That's the last thing I wa- OH! I know you!" I hold my napkin up to my face to collect myself. If I wasn't going to die in a week, I would want to get Katniss drunk sometime – of course, not to take advantage of her.

Effie, Haymitch, Portia and Cinna are staring at Katniss as the server quickly shakes her head and hurries off and I realize that Katniss had just done or said something wrong.

"Don't be ridiculous, Katniss. How could you know an Avox?" Effie snaps. "The very thought."

Katniss furrows her eyebrows, thinking this over. "What's an Avox?"

"Someone who committed a crime. They cut her tongue so she can't speak," Haymitch says. She's probably a traitor of some sort. Not likely you'd know her."

At the word traitor I realize where Katniss probably knew the girl from. She was always hunting in the woods, I knew because she would trade some of her kills with my father for bread. Hunting was illegal, as was going outside the fence that surrounded District 12. I would be willing to bet money that that's where Katniss knew the girl from.

"And even if you did, you're not to speak to one of them unless to give an order. Of course, you don't really know her," Effie says

"No, I guess not, I just – " Katniss stammers out, playing with her hands as she tries to find some excuse.

I shake my head slightly before deciding to butt in," Delly Cartwright. That's who it is. I kept thinking she looked familiar as well. Then I realized she's a dead ringer for Delly." The Avox girl looked nothing like Delly, I might as well be comparing a giraffe to a lion.

Confusion flickers in Katniss' eyes for a second before she smiles and begins nodding her hair adamantly," Of course, that's who I was thinking of. It must be the hair!"

I nod," Something about the eyes too."

"Oh, well. If that's all it is," Cinna says as the energy around the table relaxes. "And yes, the cake has spirits, but all the alcohol has burned off. I ordered it specially in honor of your fiery debut."

I take a large slice of the cake for myself. As I bite into it I wish that my father could be here to taste it. The cake is moist and melts in my mouth as I chew. The frosting is sweet without being too sweet. To say the least, this is the best cake I've ever had, and I've had enough cake in my lifetime to know.

After we finish eating, we all go to the sitting room to watch a recap of the opening ceremonies. Though a few of the couples makes a nice impression, none of them compare to us. We light up City Circle with our fiery costumes. You can even hear the gasp go through our own party as we come out of the Remake Center.

"Who's idea was the hand holding?" asks Haymitch.

"Cinna's," Portia smiles.

"Just the perfect touch of rebellion. Very nice," Haymitch nods in approval.

I furrow my eyebrows in confusion. Then I remember we were the only tributes holding hands. The other couples were shifting awkwardly away from each other, making sure to put as much distance between them as possible. They acted like their partner wasn't even there. But us, holding hands has presented us as friends, like we're in this together. It has set us apart from the others almost as much as our costumes did.

"Tomorrow morning is the first training session. Meet me for breakfast and I'll tell you exactly how I want you to play it," Haymitch says to Katniss and I. "No go get some sleep while the grown- ups talk."

As Katniss and I walk down the corridor I realize this will be one of the only times I will every really be completely alone with her. When we get to her room I lean against her doorframe, deciding that now is would be the best time to ask her about how she knew the Avox, or at least thought she did.

She looks up at me and I raise an eyebrow," So, Delly Cartwright. Imagine finding her lookalike here. "

She licks her lips nervously and looks down, contemplating telling me or not. Of course, she has nothing to lose. Even if she did tell me and someone overheard, we both lied, not to mention it would be too late for the Capitol to punish us. If they did, they'd have to get a whole new set of tributes from District 12, and that would take much too long. The worst they can do at this point is guarantee our deaths, and they've pretty much done that already.

Katniss looks down the empty hallway, and I decide that maybe if we went somewhere where it felt less like we were being watched she'd tell me.

"Have you been on the roof yet?" I ask. "Cinna showed me. You can practically see the whole city. The winds a bit loud though."

She nods," Can we just go up?"

"Sure, come on," I say. I'm a little unsure about this, but I figure that if they didn't want us up there they would've concealed it more.

Katniss follows me down the corridor to the stairs and I watch her as we walk through the dome onto the roof. She lets out a small gasp and her eyes widen. I smile as she walks over to the railings that line the edge of the roof, peering over the edge. I almost wrap my arms around her waist, afraid she might fall off, but I stop myself, remember the force field that guarantees us staying put. I lean my back against the railing beside her and watch her eyes scan across the city, the Capitol reflecting in her eyes like a million twinkling stars.

"I asked Cinna why they let us up here. Weren't they worried that some of the tributes might decide to jump right over the side?" I say.

She looks up at me, her eyes wide like a child. Hair falls out of her braid, the wind ruffling it lightly. "What'd he say?" She asks.

"You can't," I smile. I reach my hand out towards the open air in front of me. When I touch the force field it makes a sharp zapping sound, electricity runs up through my finger tips and I jerk my hand away quickly. "Some kind of electric field throws you back on the roof."

Her face twists in an unreadable emotion. "Always worried about our safety," Katniss scoffs. She pauses and looks us at me, "Do you think they're watching us now?"

"Maybe," I say. "Come see the garden."

We walk over to the small garden they've built of flower beds and potted trees. There are wind chimes hanging from each branch of the trees, loud enough to drown out our voices. Katniss' shoulder brushes against my chest as she pretends to examine a blossom.

"We were hunting in the woods one day. Hidden, waiting for game," She whispers. I watch her slender fingers brush along the flowers. I lean towards her slightly.

"You and your father?" I whisper.

"No, my friend Gale." I set my jaw at the mention of Gale but don't say anything as she continues. "Suddenly, all the birds stopped singing at once. Except one. As if it were giving a warning call. And then we saw her. I'm sure it was the same girl. A boy was with her. Their clothes were tattered. They had dark circles under their eyes from no sleep. They were running as if their lives depended on it," She says.

Katniss grows silent, her fingers growing still as she remembers. I can practically see the see flashing across her eyes, the guilt and pain she holds. She believes she could have saved them. But, no one is safe from the Capitol. No one.

"The hovercraft appeared out of nowhere," Katniss starts again. "I mean, one moment the sky was empty and the next it was there. It didn't make a sound, but they saw it. A net dropped down on the girl and carried her up, fast, so fast like an elevator. They shot some sort of spear through the boy. I was attached to a cable and they hauled him us as well. But I'm certain he was dead. We heard the girl scream once. The boy's name, I think. Then it was gone, the hovercraft. Vanished into thin air. And the birds began to sing again, as if nothing happened."

"Did they see you?" I ask.

"I don't know. We were under a shelf of rock," Katniss says quietly. Her eyes fall to her feet and she leans into me slightly. I can feel her shivering against me.

"You're shivering," I say, taking of my jacket. Katniss furrows her eyebrows and looks as though she's about to move away, but decided against it. I wrap my jacket around her neck and secure a button underneath her neck.

"They were from here?" I ask.

Katniss nods, turning back to the flowers.

"Where do you suppose they were going?" There's nothing beyond District 12 except for wilderness, unless you count the remains of District 13 that still smolder from the toxic bombs.

"I don't know that. Or why they would leave here," She says. Haymitch had said that the Avox was a traitor. But a traitor against what? Of course, the Capitol. But, they had everything here. They didn't even have to worry about the Games. They didn't have anything to rebel against.

I realize then what they'd rebel against. The constant control, they're supposed to happy about everything. Not everyone in the Capitol can be overly excited and celebratory about killing off 24 children can they? Someone here has to see the cruelty; has to have a heart.

"I'd leave here," I say aloud before I can stop myself. "I'd go home now if they let me. But you have to admit, the food's prime."

We stand in silence for some time, walking though the garden. Katniss stops at a primrose bush, inhaling the scent and carefully brushing her fingers along the edges of the flower. She sighs sadly before moving on.

"It's getting chilly. We better go in," I say. Once were inside the dome I ask her about Gale. "You're friend Gale. He's the one who took your sister away at the reapings?"

"Yes. Do you know him?" Katniss asks.

"Not really. I hear the girls talk about him a lot. I thought he was your cousin or something," I say. I furrow my eyebrow and look at my feet. "You favor each other.

"No, we're not related."

I clench my fists, trying to remind myself that they could just be friends. I highly doubt it though, I've seen the way he looks at her, the way his eyes light up at the mention of her name. Nodding I say," Did he come say good-bye to you?"

"Yes," Katniss is watching me carefully now, her eyes studying in my face. "So did your father. He brought cookies."

I raise an eyebrow. I didn't know my father had visited Katniss in the Justice Building, much less brought her cookies. That must be where the cookies I saw outside the train came from. I wonder why she threw them out? I don't bother asking her about it though, knowing it doesn't matter too much. "Really? Well, he likes you and your sister. I think he wishes he had a daughter instead of a houseful of boys."

This statement is true. As much as my father loves my brothers and I, I know he wishes he had a little girl. Someone he could baby. Katniss seems taken aback when I say this.

"He knew your mother when they were kids," I say. Katniss seems surprised by this too.

"Oh, yes. She grew up in town," Katniss says, nodding her head.

We arrive at her door and she hands me my jacket. "See you in the morning then."

"See you." I walk down the corridor to my room.

I find myself smiling as I open the large oak doors to my bedroom. Today has been a pretty wonderful day, minus the situation that I'm in. District 12 has finally made a stand, made themselves known to the Capitol. Maybe we do stand a chance. After all, the girl on fire is a survivor.


	8. Excuses, Excuses

**READ THIS AUTHORS NOTE. SERIOUSLY. IT'S IMPORTANT. **

**Okay, so I realize I havent updated in like... 300 years. I know I suck, and I am SOOOOO sorry. I hope you can forgive me. But, with that being said I do have some reasons why I've been absent. **

**1. School. I'm an Honors/AP student. And for all the rest of the you that are as well, you know that there is no easy way around the mountains of work that evil asshole teachers assign. You either do it, or flunk out, and flunking out isnt an option. I actually had a break from all of this work for a while too ( between Winter and Spring Break), for like a month or so there my teachers were like "Go ahead. Take a break, get crunk." So, naturally I did ( **Yay! No school, let's write! - **That's what I do for fun anyway) and now all my asshole teachers are like " CRAM CRAM CRAM." **** I dont know why all my asshole teachers decided to cram all of the last semesters school work into the last month of school, they just did. Plus we have state testing (Which happens to be totally pointless, but if it can get me a grade bump...what the hell? Ya know) for the next few weeks. **

**2. Cheerleading. Tryouts and a bunch of craziness this week... And starting on May 1st, we have stunting practice to prepare for camp. (Depending on if I make Varsity or not) Also TONS of drama. (What can you expect from a bunch of 15 - 18 year old girls though?) It's stressful as hell. **

**3. I never have my laptop anymore, and when I do, writer's block takes hold. **

**So those are my excuses. I don't know when I'll have time to write, hopefully soon. **

**BUTTTTTTT... I do happen to have a little something for you lovely, beautiful, patient people (: As small as it is, I hope it helps tide you over a little. As always, reviews are much appreciated! Much love to you all! **

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><p>I don't sleep well, if at all. The slumber that occasionally pulls me under is filled with nightmares. I die. Katniss dies. My father dies, finally giving into the hopeless darkness my mother has been pushing him towards for as long as I can remember.<p>

I sit up, running my hands along the delicate stitching in the fabric, reaching over to slide my finger across a touch screen pad that adjusts the lighting so that it dimly illuminates the room. My alarm clock tells me is half past five, much too early to be awake; especially in the Capitol.

Sucking in air, I fall back against the plush pillows. The ceiling seems so far away, the carved patterns twisting into the distance. My fingers glide along the patterns of my blanket and I close my eyes, thinking of all the ways I could incorporate these beautiful decorations into a wedding cake. Deep, rich colors flood my head, relaxing me.

There's a gray color that always finds its way into my mind. I like this color though; it's not just any gray. I see the light hints of a pale blue, the specks of silver shining in the sunlight. I exhale the breath I had been holding, relaxing my tense muscles. My eyes open, pulling me back into reality.

Sitting up, I swing my legs over the side of the bed. The air is cool, so different from the constant heat of the bakery I'm so used to waking up to. I groggily turn on the bright lights of the bathroom, flinching to cover my eyes under their intensity.

The boy who looks back at me isn't the same person that I saw in the mirror the day of the reaping. He doesn't look scared anymore, he seems at peace with himself. With everything that got him here. I sigh, pulling the white shirt I slept in over my head.

I carefully press the buttons on the shower, not in the mood for scalding hot water to be my wake up call.

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><p><strong>So it's short, I know. But, like I've said, I've been busy and had a mild case of writer's block. <strong>

**Anyway, if you want a small little more to read... you should go read my other story and review(: I'll give you cookies? **

**Alright, well I must be off to bed! **

**XOXO.**


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